


Changes

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [24]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wasn't.  Dr. Riley approached me about it a few days ago."  Loki looks down.  "I needed to understand all of it better before I said something," he says, sounding apologetic.  "I wasn't trying to hide anything."</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Sharing and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loki has a surprise of his own.

"So," he says (more than) a little anxiously as Loki elbows the door closed behind himself, "you said you have news for me?" His brother had texted exactly that information - nothing more, nothing less - upon leaving day treatment; for the whole of Loki's walk home Thor’s been agonizing over what said _news_ might be. Normally his brother doesn't announce it when something bad happens - if anything, someone _else_ does, and it's almost always after the fact - so there's that, and he tries to comfort himself with it. Still, Loki's idea of good news doesn't always align perfectly with his own.

"Over dinner," his brother says, smiling. Things are starting to thaw but it's by no means spring weather; Loki’s cheeks and nose are pink above his dark green scarf. He's weighed down with grocery bags, which Thor helpfully takes off his hands as Loki struggles to simultaneously balance and toe his boots off.

"So it's a special occasion," Thor asks as he unloads the bags - ahi, the makings of an oriental-style salad, something sinfully chocolaty and rich-looking, and the kicker... a bottle of sparkling non-alcoholic white grape juice, chilled but not icy-cold, and Thor isn’t letting his brain follow _any_ train of thought _that_ might trigger - onto the island.

Loki winces, almost imperceptibly, and Thor isn't sure if he should panic or hug his brother. Both, maybe. "I'm not- I don’t know," Loki says quietly. "I hope so."

~

Thor assigns himself the job of searing the tuna - it's gorgeous; his brother is _good_ at shopping - because it’s a task that requires concentration. Focus. As he keeps an eye on the fish he works hard at not letting his mind rush on ahead. He's determined to be both patient and open-minded, neither of which is easy on its own; together they are posing quite a challenge.

 _Focus_ , he reminds himself sternly as he prods the ahi steaks with the tip of his spatula. Another few seconds and the hot, hot griddle surface will release them; it will be time to carefully flip them. If he lets them go a moment too long his brother will be quite displeased with him, too.

He doesn’t.

They smell delicious, as does whatever Loki is doing over near the sink with garlic and ginger. Thor's mouth waters.

~

Once the fish is off the pan Thor does his best to help his brother out by setting the table in a hurried frenzy.

The champagne glasses they store rim-down, so he figures he can get away with a stealthy t-shirt-hem dusting. He dims the lights but doesn't get out any candles; fish always draws the four-leggers and Loki is scrupulous (understandably) about pet fire safety.

~

Once Loki finishes chopping and tossing, and everything is on the table, the two of them settle cross-legged onto the big pillows. "Cheers," Thor offers, raising his glass. He can't help but notice that, when his brother brings a glass up to carefully clink rims, Loki's hand is shaking.

He takes a sip – the stuff is surprisingly not bad, nothing like he'd imagined - and sets his own glass down. "Okay," he says, indicating the food between them with a sweep of his hand, " _over dinner._ Now, out with it, before we both implode."

Loki laughs, which seems like it must be a good thing. "I," he starts, and has to stop to clear his throat. "I was offered a job," he says. “Today.”

Of everything it could have been, _that_ news is not at all what Thor was expecting. It’s a struggle to keep his mouth from hanging open. "I- um- didn't know you were interviewing?" He doesn’t really plan on it being a question, but his voice rises of its own accord and turns his statement into one.

"I wasn't, really. Dr. Riley approached me about it a few days ago." He looks down. "I needed to understand all of it better before I said something," he says, sounding apologetic. "I wasn't trying to hide anything."

"No, it's okay," Thor assures his brother. The whole thing is a shock, sure, but he thinks he gets where Loki is coming from. "So, where? Doing what? Does that mean you're done with treatment? I mean," he adds, really not wanting to sound like an ass, "I know things are going better. I just didn't-."

"Stop," Loki orders, laughing again. He puts one hand on Thor's forearm. "I can only answer so many things at one time... and even that's assuming you take a breather and _let_ me."

Thor puts his free hand over his own mouth and nods.

"Weirdo," his brother teases. Thor shrugs.

"Okay, it's at the center," Loki offers. "They never did fill their art instructor position, and the art coordinator has been limping along trying to do both."

Thor nods to show he's listening.

"He says they're promoting him, and he needs someone to take over the coordination part - ordering and stocking supplies, making everything is set up, helping with the schedule, and maybe helping people with pottery sometimes, because painting happens to be his thing." Loki frowns. "It's part-time. Dr. Riley says I'm ready to drop back to less intensive treatment anyway." He clings uncomfortably hard to Thor's arm. "I interviewed today. They had me try a few of the things I would have to do; afterwards they told me I was a lot better than their outside candidates."

Well, that certainly sounds promising. All of it. Still, Thor waits a little to see if his brother intends to continue. "Congratulations," he says when Loki stays silent. "I'm proud of you." He takes a deep breath; his brother’s eyes are big. Worried. "It looks like there's a _but_ , though," he continues, flexing the muscles in his forearm. “And: ow.”

Loki relaxes his fingers. "Sorry!" He rubs Thor's arm. " _But_ I- I can't decide if working there is a smart idea or a cop-out."

"Do you think you would like it," Thor asks rather than commenting. The whole thing sounds like a great opportunity from where he's sitting - a job where they won't be unfairly biased against Loki's history, combined with no need for a car and help right there if it's ever needed - but he also knows full well he isn’t anywhere close to objective.

Loki studies his face; in return, Thor smiles and does his best to keep his expression fairly neutral.

"I do," his brother says. "The guy I'd be working for is really nice, and he loves my clay work. Even after I went apeshit on the room that one time, he's been great." Loki sighs. "And it would be both convenient and smart to be right there. And they don't care about my lack of a degree. If nothing else, I guess, it would get me started. I’m probably not going to get chances like this just any old where."

Thor once again nods his agreement. "You've been doing a lot of thinking," he acknowledges, not sure what to say and feeling abruptly like a bobble-head. He'd actually seen Thor bobble-heads when he was playing football in college. They were a little creepy, frankly.

"Mm," Loki concurs. "I'm leaning towards _yes_. But… it just feels- too easy?"

 _Oh, baby_ Thor thinks, _you've already put in a lifetime's worth of hard_. "Mom would say _go with your gut_ ," he says instead. She would.

Nowadays, he often finds himself wondering if _she_ did; if she followed her own advice. It doesn’t seem like it.

"I could still help out at the shelter," his brother says. "My day would be the same length; I'd just be costing you less and earning actual money. I'd finally _almost_ not be a burden."

Thor wants badly to tell Loki not to be silly; he doesn't. If their places were reversed, he would feel the same way, and it’s not his place to trivialize his brother’s feelings. That’s not who he is anymore. "Hey," he suggests instead, because Loki still looks fragile. Shaky. "Let's eat. And Loki? I'll stand behind you, whatever you choose."

Loki smirks. "What, and push me face-first into a snowbank?"

"Of course," Thor teases. "What are brothers for?"

~

"This is really good," he tells Loki, loaded fork in the air, and then crunches into another big bite of salad. "Whew,” he breathes when he can safely talk again. “I was really nervous."

"What were you hoping I was going to say," Loki asks, a little muffled, through a mouthful of ahi.

"I'm not sure," Thor tells him. "I didn't let myself get that far." He didn’t; he hadn’t. He raises his glass. "To brothers."

"To _us_ ," Loki corrects before taking a big swallow. "Forever."

 _Forever_. Thor finds himself abruptly filled to bursting with the urge to talk to Loki about rings and promises. He keeps his mouth shut; this is his brother's night.

Well, okay, it’s not shut, exactly; he stuffs the mouth in question with a big hunk of tuna.

~

The chocolate dessert Loki picked is sinfully good. They feed it to one another and then curl up together against the front of the couch, lazily chasing the last taste of it with soft lips and probing tongues.

~

"I'm too full to fuck," Loki complains, groaning and rubbing a black-nailed hand over his stomach, when they finally come up for air.

Thor laughs. "Me too," he agrees, because he for sure is. "Maybe later."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress is always a little trickier than it sounds.

“Um, hi?” Thor glances back and forth between his brother and Sif a couple of times. They both look as though he’s interrupted them in the middle of an Important Conversation. “Do you want me to leave and come back in a few minutes?” He feels almost like he should have knocked, except for how it’s his own apartment.

_Their_ apartment, meaning his and Loki’s. He does have every right to be here.

Sif turns her attention back to his brother. “No,” Loki says. “It’s fine. I was just whining.”

“About me,” Thor tries to tease, but it doesn’t work.

“I know it comes as a shock to you, brother,” Loki snaps, “but not everything in this universe is about you.”

It’s an old, old insult, one they used to take turns hurling at one another with tedious regularity. “Hey,” Thor tells his brother, “I was only kidding. Let me just put this stuff away” – he holds up his lunchbox and keys – “and I’ll get out of your way.” He’s tired. He doesn’t want to fight, especially when he has no idea what’s happening.

Consequently, he’s surprised when his brother bursts into tears and dives face-first into the couch cushions.

“Hey,” Thor says again. “Maybe someone could tell me what’s going on?”

Sif shrugs and points at Loki, who is clearly hiding. Thor sighs as quietly as he can and tries to resign himself to waiting patiently. Maybe someday waiting will finally come to him easily and naturally. He hopes so. It hasn’t yet.

~

That said, a lot has happened in the past few days. All of which means it’s probably not particularly surprising Loki is struggling, really.

For starters, three days after first broaching the subject his brother had accepted the art department job. With Thor’s wholehearted support, of course, but deciding took a long, long time. So long, in fact, that Thor can’t help but feel like he barely knows 1/100th of what went through Loki’s head over the course of the whole process.

Then, life had gotten complicated. Thor hadn’t really thought (okay, he hadn’t thought at all) about how much _taking a new job_ entails… all of it nothing Loki – whose past work experience was exclusively under the table - has ever done before. The day treatment center has a liaison who helps with the paperwork, he’s since learned, but- yeah.

His brother doesn’t like feeling incompetent. Who does, true, but Loki seems exceptionally sensitive about it.

About a lot of things.

Thor finds himself starting to seriously wonder if the whole thing was just one very bad idea.

~

“I suck,” Loki finally says into one of the throw pillows. Sif reaches out to stroke his hair and he swats her hand away. “Leave me alone. I suck. Seriously. I don’t deserve to be treated nicely.”

Thor sets his lunchbox and his keys down on the cute little black bench just beyond the entryway, the one Loki’d found discarded at the curb a few weeks ago. They’ve each promised not to use it as a dumping ground for _stuff_ , but Thor figures this is as good a time as any to make an exception.

He walks over to the couch and squats to place a loud kiss between his brother’s shaking shoulder blades… and only barely manages to duck fast enough to avoid the elbow that comes flying at him.

“I _said_ -,” Loki starts, but Thor cuts him off.

“I heard you just fine,” he tells his brother, carefully keeping his voice neutral. “I just don’t happen to agree.”

Loki burrows even farther into the cushions and wraps his arms around his own torso in sad parody of a tight hug. “Who cares what you think? I hate you. Go away.”

In the old days, this would have been a fight for sure. Thor – what is it, 5.0 by now? He’s pretty sure he’s had at least that many upgrades – knows a tantrum (not to mention _projection_ ) when he sees one; he lets it all go. “Anything I should know,” he asks Sif instead, resting both hands on his own knees. These days he knows better than to go touching his brother again just yet.

She rolls her eyes. When she speaks, though – she is, as always, _good_ at this - there isn’t a trace of exasperation to be found anywhere in her voice. “Open enrollment,” she explains.

“Open enrollment,” Thor repeats. He probably sounds puzzled. He _is_ puzzled.

“Fuck off,” Loki snaps.

_Oh._ Duh. Bureaucracy 1, Loki 0.

“Baby?” Thor once again lets his brother’s outburst roll off him. “ _Everyone_ hates that shit. Seriously.” He looks up at Sif, who’s nodding and humming in agreement. “Every year when that time rolls around, I seriously wish I lived somewhere that had government-sponsored healthcare. Just pick it for me, for god’s sake.” He gets a little spit down the wrong way and coughs. “So fucking frustrating,” he finishes once he can.

He and Sif exchange a long look. She shrugs again.

Loki shifts. “Seriously?”

Thor and Sif both say “absolutely,” loudly and with enthusiasm. “That packet should come with a warning label,” Sif adds. “It always makes me want to murder someone.”

After a very, very long silence, Loki groans. “I’m such an idiot,” he says, snuffling. “Why the fuck do you guys put up with me?”

“Your charming personality,” Sif says, just as Thor says “for the sex.” He catches his brother’s ankle gently as Loki kicks blindly in his general direction.

“Okay, fine,” Loki grumbles, “I hate you both.” This time, though, he laughs.

They all do.

Thor feels the tight ball of fear in his chest slowly unwind. “I need to go put my lunch dishes in the dishwasher before they fester,” he says, planting another kiss on the bottom of his brother’s sock-clad foot. “I love you, baby. Really.”

Loki snorts. “Whatever,” he tells the couch. “I still hate you.”

~

The following Monday his brother comes home sporting a new badge. _Loki O.,_ it reads, _Art Department Coordinator_. Above that, next to Loki’s picture, the ID says _STAFF_ in big red letters.

Following Loki’s lead Thor says nothing about it; he just hugs his brother close and thinks every happy thought he can muster.

A few minutes later, Loki pauses in the middle of making greek dressing and inquires politely about his workday. Thor grins ear-to-ear at the inside of the refrigerator. “It was fine, thanks,” he answers. “How was yours?”

~

“It’s taking a long time to get off the ground,” Thor tells his therapist a couple of weeks later. “Somehow this seems to be a lot harder for him than volunteering at the shelter was.” He isn’t sure why, and he hasn’t found a great way to ask about it.

“Mm,” the social worker hums into the phone. “This is different. It probably feels very- very heavy to Loki. Be patient; give him time. And Thor,” he adds, “don’t expect to understand.”

~

It’s not pleasant advice. Consequently, he’s quite surprised to find it working.

~

The weather finally starts to really improve. The majority of the snow is gone; the park is full of snowbells and crocuses. The ducks finally have their pond back, instead of a field of mushy, rutted ice surrounding a small, irregular oval window of open water.

The days are longer. Everything feels fresh and hopeful and new.

~

The third Saturday morning in April, it’s lovely. The sun is shining. Thor and Loki walk hand in hand with their coats unbuttoned. His brother is cheerful as they wander through the park. They take turns trying to identify the birds just starting to return for the season; several times, Thor has to stop himself from saying “mom would know.” She would, but he doesn’t want to kill the mood.

On the way back they stop for brunch at a little café they haven’t tried before. They’re a little late for peak time on a Saturday - the more industrious brunch-eaters have already left to start their day’s chores – and the owner stops by their table to introduce himself.

As Thor finishes his “elevator speech” about what he does for a living, the man turns to his brother. “And what do you do?”

Thor holds his breath.

Loki smiles over the rim of his mug of cocoa. “I work in the art department at a day treatment center,” he says conversationally.

“That sounds like a cool job,” the guy says, nodding. Thor breathes out a silent sigh of relief.

“It is,” Loki agrees. “I’m fairly new to it, but so far I like it.”

The phone behind the counter rings, and the owner politely excuses himself. “Enjoy your meal,” he tells them as he turns to go. “And good luck with the new job!”

Loki is still smiling as he disappears back behind his mug.

Thor isn’t sure he’s ever felt quite this proud.

Ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward. Good, but awkward.

“You look good, you know,” Thor tells his brother from the comfort of the bed. It’s almost warm enough this morning to toss off the covers without having to sprint (shrieking, if you’re Loki, which he isn’t) for the shower, and maybe he would, but he’s simply too _nested_ to budge. Loki – out of bed first, for once - stretches lazily in front of the balcony door. With the curtains open, of course, but it’s probably too dark in here for anyone outside to see in anyway. Unless Sif or Steve were to poke a head directly around the divider separating the adjoining balconies… and he’s pretty sure _the neighbors_ would cheerfully leap to their deaths before so doing. Which is to say, it will never happen.

“Pig,” Loki says, doubling over to largely disappear from view. Just his trim little ass bobs in the air.

_Am not_ , Thor starts to say, except that given how disgustingly pleased he feels about the sudden change of view he probably is one. “Mm,” he agrees instead, playing along. “Turn a little. A little more. There, just like that.” He whistles, low and soft. “Perfect.”

Loki laughs. When he straightens back up and turns to wink at Thor over one shoulder, face pink and hair disheveled, he’s flat-out gorgeous. If anything he looks even _better_ now than he did a minute ago.

Thor smiles. “I’m serious, though. I mean, you always look good, but you- you look especially nice these days. Fit. Healthy.” He returns the wink, so his serious comments won’t sit too heavily. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you looked _happy_.”

~

It’s true, too, every bit of it. His brother is finally eating enough, regularly, to build muscle in the gym without losing every last ounce of body fat in the process. The once-angry scar on his chest has dwindled to a pale, smooth circle. Even the massive one on his back, which doesn’t stand a chance in hell of ever healing to the point of disappearing, is finally starting to fade enough that it no long stands out sharp and hideous against his very fair skin.

Perhaps most important, the worst of the haunted look that once dogged him – dating all the way back to sometime before Thor went to college, thinking back on it – has largely left his face. Loki still rarely looks _completely_ relaxed, even when he’s sleeping, but the sharp edge of tension is gone. He looks- well, not so haggard. Just this side of peaceful, maybe.

It’s a really nice change.

~

“Come back to bed,” Thor suggests. “Just for a few minutes. I want to ask you something.”

Loki groans. “It’s almost noon. I’m _hungry_. Can’t you get your fat ass out of bed and ask me in the bathroom?”

“Fine,” Thor grumbles. “I just won’t ask at all, then. Never mind.” He rolls onto his other side, so he’s facing away from the balcony, and yanks the covers – sheets, blankets, big puffy duvet, and all – up over his head. “Forget I said anything,” he continues, muttering into his own pillow.

It’s quickly going to get uncomfortably warm, yes, but if history is any guide he won’t be suffering very long. The worst, hardest part will be keeping himself from laughing.

~

Sure enough, it’s _maybe_ all of two minutes before Loki pounces on top of him like a gigantic cat. When Thor doesn’t pop his head out, his brother slips under the covers to press icy-cold skin all up and down his back. “Fuck, Loki,” Thor exclaims, shuddering. It feels good, honestly, after the initial shock.

Which isn’t the point. So his brother doesn’t need to know it.

Loki wraps around him like a chilly robe, arms and legs everywhere. Thor can feel his brother’s nearly soft cock – it’s warmer than the surrounding skin; noticeably so – press gently against the base of his spine.

It would be _so easy_ to shift a little, to push back against his brother and rock and turn this quickly into something physical. Something filthy. Instead he clears his throat, carefully. “So,” he starts. It’s not a particularly poetic beginning. “Can I ask you something?”

His brother snuggles closer, knees up behind Thor’s own legs and face buried deep in his hair. “I’m back in bed, aren’t I?”

Thor catches one of Loki’s hands in his own and presses it against his chest. “Mm. Um. Ah.” It’s hopeless. He can’t even get off the ground, let alone keep flying. “Look, I know we can’t legally do it.-“

“This is starting to sound like one of _my_ ideas,” Loki interjects, breath warm and humid against the back of Thor’s neck.

“Let me finish,” Thor begs. “Please. This is hard.” He brings his brother’s hand up to his lips and kisses it. _Deep breath_. “I know we can’t legally get married” – he can feel Loki flinch, but he keeps going – “and in all likelihood that won’t ever change. At least not in our lifetimes. But would you be willing to make a similar commitment, even knowing it wasn’t legally binding?”

Shit. That was _almost_ as graceless as his idiotic joint-therapy reveal had been.

“Did you just ask me to marry you,” Loki asks, finally, after Thor has counted all the way to 85. His brother’s voice is a little wobbly.

Thor kisses Loki’s fingers again. “No. Asking you to marry me is what I’m going to do another time, in lovely surroundings, with something perfect and sparkling to put on your finger. This is just me making sure we’re on the same page. Um. Or something equally trite and stupid-sounding,” he adds with a breathless little laugh.

Loki tightens his python hold. Thor realizes they’re both shaking. “Shh,” he soothes, letting go of his brother’s fingers to roll over and pull Loki close. “If it’s not something you want to ta-.”

“Stop,” Loki says. “Don’t. I’m just- I’m speechless. Which you should be,” he adds. “Because oh my god. But.” He twists away and hiccups into his pillow. “Sorry. But, to answer your question” – he looks up at Thor for just a moment and then closes his eyes. Thor wants very badly to kiss him… the delicate skin of his eyelids, the thick black lashes, the sharp tip of his nose – “I- I think I would be _willing to make a similar commitment,_ as you so gracelessly put it.”

Thor squishes his brother close as his own eyes well up.

“Urf,” Loki grunts. “Now let me go, feed me, and start looking for that _perfect and sparkling_ thing you mentioned earlier.”

He would laugh, but he’s too choked up. Instead Thor clings to his brother like there’s no tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just have to, er, roll with it.

"Ouch," Thor barks, the pain made even worse by the surprise. "You little shit!" He tries to laugh between gasps but what comes out is more of a croak. "I swear," he pants, curling over and grinding Loki's face into the bedding with one hand (his _good_ one) as he frantically shakes the other… all the while doing his best to keep up some sort of rhythm. “Being in bed with you is like fucking a wild little animal sometimes."

"Mmph," Loki protests into the duvet. As much as Thor might otherwise like to hear his brother's witty repartee, Loki's teeth are _sharp_ and he's absolutely not chancing another encounter with them just yet.

"I warned you," he huffs out. "When the downstairs neighbors are banging on the ceiling you are - unngh," he can't help but interject as Loki bucks back and clenches tight around him, "oh god yes, yes - being _way_ too loud." After one last warning shove Thor loosens his hold on the back of his brother's head and pauses, just to see what will happen.

Nothing really does. Loki fists both hands in the covers, up by his own shoulders, and pushes back… but that’s all to be expected. He grunts on a hard exhale with each of Thor's thrusts. Still, for now he seems to be done wailing like a banshee.

Thor straightens back up and hooks both his hands, the intact one and the one that stings like fuck thanks to the salty sweat running along his brother’s flanks, into the spaces between Loki’s belly and sharp hip bones. "Come back here where you belong," he insists as he drags his brother - along with the covers, the fitted sheet, the mattress pad, and at least three pillows - towards the side of the bed. "Perfect. Right there." His body slaps against Loki’s red, mottled ass and thighs with every thrust. And where Thor is gripping tightly, keeping his brother steady, a little trickle of blood squishes free and snakes down the outside of Loki’s thigh.

He shuts his eyes and blocks all of it out, every last bit, until the only thing he can do is _feel_.

Two, maybe three more rough, stuttering thrusts and Thor empties himself into his brother’s writhing body. He has to clench his own teeth to keep from screaming.

~

Screw caution. The bed is trashed anyway. Thor pulls out abruptly and flips his brother face-up. Before Loki can get oriented, let alone find any leverage, Thor is on his own knees on the floor, curled over the bed again, with his brother’s hard, sweaty-salty cock in his mouth.

He can’t reach his brother’s face this time.

Sure enough, Loki screeches as he comes.

~

Afterwards, when the asshole downstairs thumps against the ceiling powerfully enough for Thor to feel it in both knees, right through the hardwood and the little throw rug besides, both of them – he and his _wild thing_ of a brother – laugh like fools.

"Shit," Thor breathes. He gets shakily to his feet and crash-lands on the bed beside his brother. "You really have to stop with the biting."

Loki's ribs are going like a set of bellows. "You shouldn't- use your hand- as a gag," he reminds Thor, “or shit like that- is bound- to happen.”

"And _you_ shouldn't shriek like you're being murdered," Thor counters. "Someday someone is going to call 9-1-1." He pant-laughs. "And how awkward will that be?"

"Pretty awkward," Loki concedes. He shifts half onto his side to look at Thor and squeals. "Jesus fuck, Thor. _Why_ do I always end up in the wet spot?"

"Your ass leaks," Thor teases. "You need me to put something in there? A stopper? A cork? My foot?" He grins. “I’d hate for you to suffer this indignity all alone.”

Loki laughs a little breathlessly and rolls up onto him, slipping and sliding across one thigh in a drippy sprawl of sweat and semen. "Don't put yourself out," his brother huffs, clutching and clawing, and once again Thor is reminded just how far Loki is from tame. "I'll happily share."

~

Thor wipes his bloody palm along his brother's ribs and then holds it up for inspection. It burns. "Shower," he insists, shoving Loki off to one side… which amounts to dumping his brother right back into the mess in question. "I need to wash this out before I die of rabies or lockjaw." His hand sports at least six small punctures, a blood blister, and a dozen bruises. "You are something, you know that?"

"You started it," Loki reminds him.

Thor rolls his eyes. "I don't remember being the one practically _begging_ to be put over a knee and paddled."

Loki stretches a little to kiss Thor on the mouth. "Mm. You taste like someone I know." He leans back enough to prop himself up on one elbow and smirks. "Come here often?"

"About as often as you do."

“Ugh,” his brother complains, flopping flat onto the bed, and Thor isn’t sure if he has the wet or his lame joke to thank for it. “You’re right. Shower.”

~

After they wash up and he gets a good look – in the glaring white of the bathroom, with the unforgiving lights turned all the way up – at how badly he’s bruised Loki’s backside, Thor feels an awful surge of guilt. “I’m so sorry,” he blurts out without thinking, and it’s so heartfelt his brother jumps.

“Whatever for?” Loki’s face in the mirror looks puzzled. Puzzled and a little sad.

“Your ass looks like it’s been through a war,” Thor tells his brother. “I know this sounds stupid, but I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Loki says, and then stops. He sighs. “Okay, you did,” he corrects himself. “But I wanted it. I really, _really_ wanted it. That’s a good kind of hurting.”

Thor shudders. “I- I’m not sure I could talk about this in group.” He’s told his brother this over and over; it’s his meter. His litmus test, if you will. If he can’t talk about it, he shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t do it to start with.

Pure and simple.

Loki reaches out to tuck a dripping strand of hair behind Thor’s ear. “As our many therapists say, _let’s unpack this one a little_. Could you tell your group the rest?”

“The rest of what,” Thor asks false-stupidly, but he can feel his face already reddening.

“Exactly,” Loki says. “I’m not sure it’s the _spanking_ that’s really the problem, for a change.”

Thor pulls Loki close. Even now he can smell himself on his brother’s skin. “Maybe,” he admits, breathing deeply. “But only maybe.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even when it looks easy, it just isn't.

"How did you know you were right for one another," Sif asks between swallows of fresh-squeezed orange juice. So what if it’s lunchtime; as breakfast-all-day places go, this one is pretty goddamned- swank. Awesome. Perfect, even. She'd stumbled across it – and then introduced Thor to it - a few months ago, and it's fast become their favorite lunch spot. Breakfast and all. "You and Loki, I mean," Sif prompts as Thor’s mind continues to wander. "Do you remember?"

Something about the question leaves him feeling uncomfortable, like it’s going to hurt badly to answer. He dodges and goes instead for the subtext: "Are- are you having doubts," he asks, trying hard to sound neutral and concerned rather than judgmental. “Because if you are-…”

Thor isn’t really sure where to take it from there. He _isn't_ judging; he just wants his little family together. And happy.

And maybe he has the order wrong there. Maybe.

Sif sighs. "No," she concedes, and Thor is abruptly embarrassed to find himself dizzy with relief. "Not at all. I love Steve, and I love what we have together." She sets her glass down on the 50's-style formica. "It's just that- you and Loki are in a whole 'nother _class_ somehow." She sighs again. "We glow, you burn. We’re the Christmas lights, you've gone supernova. Sometimes it just makes me wonder."

Thor lays his fork down carefully, to keep himself from being utterly disgusting and playing with the wreckage of his omelet. "I've been fucking my _brother_ since college. Me, the spouse-beater; my brother, the mentally-ill drug addict." Sure enough, it _does_ hurt. He rubs the bridge of his nose. This must be how his therapist feels. "I'm hardly one to be giving relationship advice."

"You know what I mean," she protests, and despite everything Thor has to admit he does.

"Look," he starts in, probably sounding more frustrated than he has any right to be. "Loki burns like the sun. In every possible sense, too." It's true. His brother is such an incredible, compelling force; Thor simply cannot fathom any outcome that sees the two of them alive and yet not together. "It's probably not healthy." He laughs, and that hurts too. "Oh, fuck it,” he goes on, groaning. “It's _definitely_ not healthy. Still, it's what we have. It’s all we fucking have. But you listen to me." He reaches out and taps her fingers gently in time with his words. "Do. Not. Model. Your. Life. After. Mine."

She rewards him - barely - with a wan little smile. "I know… intellectually, it's stupid," she agrees, and even though he knows she’s right he makes a face at her just the same. "But I see you two together and it’s amazing. I can't help but feel like I'm missing something."

_You are_ , Thor thinks. _You're missing coming home and finding your lover all but dead. You're missing the ED visits and the soul-rending fights and the misunderstandings that end in blood and tears. The broken glass. The razors. The nagging sick feeling borne of knowing exactly how much force will shatter your lover's jaw._ Love and hate, death and life, icy cold despair and the hot flames of anger walk far too close together when it comes to the two of them. To Thor, to Loki. "Are you happy," he asks her instead, because going there is a hell of a lot easier. "When you're not busy _comparing_ , I mean?"

Her face lights up. _Right there is your answer, Siffy-girl_ , he thinks as she nods. Enthusiastically. She’s transported.

"Well, then," he reminds her, "I don’t think you have a problem. And when you want drama I'm always happy to lend you some of mine."

This time she smiles for real. "Good point," she acknowledges. "Sometimes when I _don't_ want it, even, you’re still far too happy to share.” She takes a big, shaky breath. “But the two of you do have something special."

Thor looks down at his own hands for a moment, then back up at her face. He loves her to pieces, he does, but it’s nothing at all like what he feels towards Loki. "Yeah," he says quietly, "we do."

He's not sure the soaring, nosebleed heights are even possible without the gut-churning drops and the crushing lows. He'll even remind Sif of that another time, maybe, if she wanders down this particular mental alley again. "Eat your pancakes," he instructs instead, picking up his fork again and using it as a pointer. "They'll get cold."

"Potato pancakes are _good_ cold," Sif insists, frowning at him. He's reminded, humorously, of his stubborn little brother.

She does take another bite, though, and that’s exactly where the similarity ends.

"Don't tell Steve, okay," she asks after about half a pancake.

"I won't," Thor assures her, because that’s what friends are for. He thinks of Dr. Riley, though, and of Ginny. "But you should."

Sif nods. "I know, and I have," she says. "I always will."

He can see it in her face: she means it. When Sif makes a promise, it’s for keeps. Forever. "You always were better at the hard stuff than I was," he tells her.

Sif shrugs. "Maybe it just isn’t quite so hard," she counters, "when it isn't Loki."

~

When he gets home that night, Thor runs into Steve in the hallway. It’s beyond awkward. “Hey,” he says, trying to both duck into his apartment and not be totally rude all at once. And, of course, failing miserably.

“Thor?” Steve catches him just before he makes it to safety.

“Mm?” Thor feels- like Loki.

“I just wanted to thank you, man,” Steve tells him, and Thor wants to die. “For talking to Sif today. I know she’s been worried, and the last thing I want is to push her into anything.”

Thor isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry. “Um. Sure. No problem.” It probably doesn’t count as _telling Steve_ when he’s not the one who started it, but he’s not taking any chances. “Good to see you,” he says, trying his damnedest to nip any possible conversation in the bud.

“Yeah, same here,” Steve offers. He seems- deflated, and Thor feels like an asshole. “Say hi to Loki.”

“Will do,” Thor says. “Hey, Steve,” he calls after his- his _friend_. “Change is hard, you know?”

Steve smiles and nods. “It is, isn’t it.”

It’s not a question.

It isn’t.


End file.
